


hate that i saw you again last night

by greyskieslatenights



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dirty Talk, Exes, M/M, Panties, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Semi-Infidelity, Semi-Public Sex, Unhealthy Relationships, hatefucking, soonwoo fuck in a club bathroom that's it that's the fic, surprisingly tender feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:20:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29060421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyskieslatenights/pseuds/greyskieslatenights
Summary: Wonwoo shouldn’t give a single fuck that Soonyoung is here grinding up on some other guy, because they’re not dating, not exclusively fucking, or even any sort of anything to each other anymore.And yet here he is, giving his singular fuck. The heart (or the penis, for what it’s worth) was never really much of a rational organ, if the literature is to be believed.
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi
Comments: 10
Kudos: 81





	hate that i saw you again last night

**Author's Note:**

> yeah... i wish i could explain where this one came from.
> 
> **there is a mention of wonwoo referring to someone as "kid" in a semi-sexual context, but it's meant in the way that someone might call someone younger than them a kid even if they're all adults. everyone in this fic is intended to be 21+, but i wanted to add the disclaimer in case it made anyone uncomfortable. there's also a mention of semi-violent fights (not explicit/in the moment but it's mentioned that characters threw things at each other in anger) if that bothers you.
> 
> title from/inspired by [mgk's why are you here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vL41VpNAv6I)

The moment Wonwoo sees Soonyoung underneath the pulsing lights of this shitty underground club, he knows he’s fucked.

At first, Wonwoo tries to tell himself it’s someone else (surely there’s another person out there who’d wear a silk shirt with tiger stripes to go clubbing, right?) but one glimpse turns into three, and the third time’s the charm because he has the misfortune to lock eyes with the one person he’d hoped he’d never see for the rest of his life.

Maybe that’s a little dramatic. But it’s too fresh seeing him like this now, mere weeks after a violent shouting match that culminated in wishing everything short of death on each other and Soonyoung slamming Wonwoo’s front door so hard that the framed picture of him and his friends at his twenty-second birthday fell off the wall, glass cracked neatly between Wonwoo's and Soonyoung's faces like some sort of flowery literary metaphor.

Soonyoung’s with someone—Wonwoo vaguely remembers the face, one of the younger guys from Soonyoung’s studio, maybe—and from the way Soonyoung appears to be making a valiant effort to eliminate all physical space between them, he figures it’s more than likely non-platonic. Something about it sends heat down his spine, twisting ugly in his gut to fester.

It’s hypocritical of him, to be sure. Wonwoo came with someone else, too, a friend of a friend who he’s slept around with a couple of times before, but he’s busy chatting up an acquaintance he ran into. They didn’t have much of an agreement to stay or leave together, either—more like a tacit understanding that if neither of them found another partner, they’d have sex just for something to do. 

It’s stupid. It doesn’t make any sense, because he and Soonyoung were _not good together_ and even worse at trying to be friends afterwards (to be fair, they probably hadn’t given it enough time between not-dating and attempting platonic human connection, but it’s also hard to want to be friends again with someone who’d nearly taken out your head with a hardcover copy of _Wuthering Heights_ the night before. It’s funny how both of them thought that trying to add tender feelings into a six-year friendship based mostly on mutual mockery was a good idea.)

Wonwoo shouldn’t give a single fuck that Soonyoung is here grinding up on some other guy, because they’re not dating, not exclusively fucking, or even any sort of anything to each other anymore.

And yet here he is, giving his singular fuck. The heart (or the penis, for what it’s worth) was never really much of a rational organ, if the literature is to be believed.

Soonyoung’s eyes haven’t left Wonwoo’s since they met. Wonwoo watches as he leans down to whisper into his companion’s ear; the other man gives Soonyoung a pat on the shoulder and leaves.

Wonwoo should go. Every fiber of his being is screaming _this is a bad idea,_ but he’s rooted to the spot as Soonyoung approaches him, predatory fire in his eyes. 

“Hey,” Soonyoung says, head tilted slightly to the side. He smirks, eyes narrowing as he sizes Wonwoo up. Wonwoo feels his spine straighten up, instinctually feeling the need to use the few centimeters he has on Soonyoung to their full effect. Soonyoung can be a wild animal when he wants to be, but Wonwoo knows how to tame him, for the most part.

“Hey,” Wonwoo replies. It’s woefully inadequate, but it seems like the wrong venue to say _hey, how’ve you been after we tore each other to pieces earlier this month, I don’t suppose you’ve been getting on well?_

“You here with anyone?” Soonyoung asks, stepping closer into Wonwoo’s personal space. He can smell the cologne Soonyoung’s always liked, the slight hint of grapefruit wafting by his nose.

Wonwoo shrugs. He lost sight of Seungcheol a while back, and doesn’t think either of them are going to be looking for each other anytime soon. “Doesn’t matter. Looks like you were, though.”

Soonyoung’s eyes widen momentarily, evidently not thinking that Wonwoo would call him out for it. “Doesn’t matter,” he echoes, but he’s always been a bad liar. Wonwoo wants to press him on it, knows how Soonyoung tends to get emotional and sentimental about things, but holds his tongue.

A beat of silence passes between them, tense and stifling. Wonwoo has a pretty good idea of where this is going to end up, and he’s midway through formulating a bullshit excuse to get out of it before Soonyoung kisses him, open-mouthed and sloppy, and all thoughts go out the window as Wonwoo feels fingers around his wrist and finds himself being led to the bathrooms.

Soonyoung pauses just before they actually go inside, eyes searching Wonwoo’s own for any sign of hesitation. Wonwoo can barely meet Soonyoung’s gaze, his skin too-tight around his bones and electricity sparking in his veins when he catches a glimpse of Soonyoung’s blown pupils and tousled hair.

“Wonwoo,” Soonyoung murmurs, and it’s like a spell is broken—Wonwoo reaches out to grab Soonyoung by the front of his (stupid, _stupid_ ) tiger-printed button-up, mashing their lips together in maybe the worst kiss he’s ever given. 

Soonyoung, to his credit, threads his fingers in Wonwoo’s hair and licks against the seam of his lips, shoving his thigh between Wonwoo’s legs. It’s almost on the wrong side of painful, because Soonyoung has a chain clipped to his belt loops and it’s pressing against Wonwoo’s balls, but Wonwoo opts to reach between them and grab Soonyoung’s hardening cock and squeeze instead of saying anything about it, fumbling for the bathroom door with the other hand and walking them both inside, legs tangling together as they go.

The proprietors of the club clearly have no illusions about the types of people that walk through its doors—Wonwoo digs around in his pockets for loose change, dropping the coins into the vending machine slot and turning the knob, hitting the side of the metal box on the wall when it takes too long to deposit his condom and single-use packet of lube. Behind him, Soonyoung locks the bathroom door. The sound of the latch turning booms deafening in his ears, despite the wall-shaking volume of the music playing only a few meters away from them.

There’s no grace to any of it at all, both of them fumbling at the buttons and zippers of each other’s pants, pulling down just enough to access the important parts. When Wonwoo undoes the fly of Soonyoung’s leather pants, he’s greeted with a lace thong, stark black against the pale skin of his hips. He’d never seen Soonyoung wear it before—didn’t even know Soonyoung owned anything like this, despite years of rummaging through each other’s dressers and closets and borrowing so many articles of clothing they sometimes forgot what was actually their own.

(Wonwoo wonders, fleetingly, what else he didn’t know about Soonyoung.)

“So I don’t get panty lines,” Soonyoung huffs when Wonwoo stares at him with a raised eyebrow, snaps the waistband against his skin. “Tasteless as ever, Jeon Wonwoo.”

“When did you get this?” Wonwoo asks, rubbing at the dripping slit of Soonyoung’s cock through the lace. He can tell it was made for a man, the front of it cupping around Soonyoung’s hardness instead of lying flat like the women’s underwear he’s seen in porn.

“What does it matter to you?” Soonyoung grumbles, sticking his hand down Wonwoo’s own standard-issue boxer briefs. “Wish I’d worn it for you?”

A sharp growl rips itself out from Wonwoo’s throat. Wonwoo doesn’t have a panty kink—the idea of any of his prospective male sexual partners wearing feminine underwear had never crossed his mind before. But something about Soonyoung goading him into it, insinuating that he does this for someone else, someone who _isn’t_ Wonwoo, has fire prickling through his bones, threatening to supernova through his skin.

“Maybe,” is all Wonwoo manages to spit out.

Soonyoung gives a dry laugh. “Typical. You can never say what you mean.”

This is familiar territory for them, banter that hits a little too close to home while Wonwoo manhandles Soonyoung so they’re both facing the sink, Soonyoung’s ass pushed out as he bends over, back arched. Wonwoo uses his thumb to hold the string of Soonyoung’s thong out of the way as he drizzles lube over Soonyoung’s hole, ignoring the way he cringes at the temperature.

He starts with two fingers—slim hands coupled with Soonyoung’s propensity for liking things rough means he can be a little mean, circling around Soonyoung’s rim until he decides to start working him open. It’s easier than he remembers it being, and he voices as much ( _“When did you get so loose, Kwon Soonyoung?”_ )

“Maybe I had sex before I came here,” Soonyoung retorts, but the effect is somewhat diminished by the way he’s rocking his hips back onto Wonwoo’s fingers.

“Clearly it wasn’t enough,” Wonwoo muses, trying to keep his tone detached, “judging by the way you’re so eager to fuck yourself on my hand.”

“Fuck you.” Soonyoung’s voice breaks as Wonwoo crooks his fingers against his prostate, whipping his head around to shoot Wonwoo a glare.

“Slut.” Wonwoo pulls his fingers out, wiping them on a paper towel before he rips open the condom packet and slips it on. In the mirror, he sees Soonyoung roll his eyes.

“I may be a slut, but you’re the one getting sloppy seconds,” he cuts back, breathless as Wonwoo slides his cock into him.

Wonwoo sees red, palming the back of Soonyoung’s head to pull him up so he can whisper in his ear. “Who, that kid you were with?” he growls. “He fuck you like I do?”

The sweat on Soonyoung’s skin glows in the fluorescent lights of the bathroom, mixing with the body shimmer on his neck. The tendons stand out in stark relief as they strain against Wonwoo’s grasp.

“N-ngah,” Soonyoung pants, Adam’s apple bobbing as he breathes.

“That’s not an answer.” Wonwoo snaps his hips against Soonyoung’s ass, grips Soonyoung’s waist tighter, fingers biting into Soonyoung’s skin. He wonders if (hopes that) it’ll bruise. 

“N-no, _fuck_ , Wonwoo.” Soonyoung’s back arches, trying to grind down deeper on Wonwoo’s cock. “It’s not the same as you. Never the same.”

Wonwoo chuckles, quick and humorless. “Damn straight.”

He drops his hand from Soonyoung’s hair; Soonyoung cries out as the tension releases from his scalp, shoulders slumping as his palms brace against the lip of the sink.

They both know what they came here for—Wonwoo wastes no time plowing into Soonyoung, fueled by pent-up sexual frustration, anger, and maybe a little bit of revenge. Soonyoung gives as much as Wonwoo will let him, holding himself up firm against the impact of Wonwoo’s hips, ass clenching whenever Wonwoo bottoms out inside him. He’s noisy, the way he’s always been, keening as Wonwoo hits home, over and over again.

The faintest beads of tears collect at the edges of Soonyoung’s eyes, matting his lashes together. Wonwoo wonders if Soonyoung still uses the same shitty dollar-store eyeliner he’s always bought, if it’ll smear dark rings under his eyes. Wonwoo always thought Soonyoung looked the prettiest when he was filthy, ruined, but maybe Wonwoo’s just a depraved lunatic.

“Shit,” Wonwoo grunts, smacking his hand against Soonyoung’s asscheek, “you look so good like this, fuck, bent over for my cock.”

“Won, I—ah—!”

Soonyoung gasps loud and high as he comes, his release splattering against the waistband of his thong and his stomach. His cheeks are red from alcohol and exertion, but his eyes are bright, boring into Wonwoo’s through their reflections in the mirror. Soonyoung was always a bit of a narcissist—enjoyed watching himself get fucked, watching _them_ fuck a little too much.

There’s a part of Wonwoo that wants to look away. Eye contact during sex is something that seemed too intimate to him, made him feel like his soul was being stared into and pulled out through his pupils for inspection.

But everything about Soonyoung is a challenge, and looking away now would mean that Soonyoung wins. Wonwoo can’t let that happen, not tonight.

So Wonwoo makes sure Soonyoung knows he’s looking as he fucks into Soonyoung, teeth gritted as he pushes Soonyoung’s thighs against the sink. Once, twice, three times into the tight heat of Soonyoung’s ass and he feels his orgasm rip through him, vision blurring around the edges until all he can see is Soonyoung, lips parted in a soundless scream as Wonwoo pushes him past the brink of over-sensitive.

Post-nut clarity hits him like a freight train as he pulls out and pinches the condom off, dumping it in the trash can. Wonwoo hadn’t necessarily been holding out hope that he and Soonyoung would reconcile in even a platonic sort of way, but he figures having sex with your ex in a club bathroom is a good way to disrupt that life path, if not a way to destroy it entirely.

Beside him, Soonyoung takes care of his own cleanup, wiping at his underwear with a wet paper towel and a pensive pout. He doesn’t look like he’s having the same kind of mental crisis that Wonwoo’s currently having; there’s an off chance that he’s just much better at hiding it, but Wonwoo dismisses the notion out of hand, unless Soonyoung suddenly got real good at being less of an open book in the past few weeks. Then again, half of their problems started because Wonwoo _thought_ he could read Soonyoung’s concretes when Soonyoung was really thinking in abstracts, so what does he know?

Wonwoo splashes his face with cold tap water from the sink, running damp fingers through his hair and willing the sex-and-alcohol-crazed look on his face to fade. It’s not really working. Soonyoung does the same, dabbing at his forehead and chest with more paper towels to try and wipe off at least _some_ of the sweat. 

“Christ,” he mutters, swiping at his cheek where grey-black eyeliner mixed with tears dried tacky on his skin. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you.”

Wonwoo shrugs. It’s not like Soonyoung doesn’t already know the answer.

They finish their cleanup in silence; Wonwoo helps Soonyoung wipe the cum off his stomach and the sweat off the back of his neck wordlessly. The air feels tight, buzzing around the two of them, and Wonwoo can’t explain why he can stick his dick in Soonyoung just fine but using a damp towel to try and rub off the worst of Soonyoung’s running eyeliner makes him want to run for the hills.

“Thanks,” Soonyoung says once they’ve thrown the last of the paper towels in the bin and tucked everything back into place where it needed to go. They don’t _not_ look like they just had sex, but it could be passed off as a particularly energetic dance session (not that Wonwoo ever really engages in that kind of behavior, but plausible deniability is a thing.)

Wonwoo nods mutely. He’s not entirely sure what Soonyoung is thanking him for.

Soonyoung unlocks the door, fingers curling around the knob, but pauses just short of actually opening it.

“Wonwoo,” he murmurs, turning back to meet his eyes. Wonwoo hums, pitching it up in question.

It lasts a fraction of a second, but it’s enough to knock Wonwoo completely off his axis—Soonyoung presses a soft kiss to his lips, chaste and tender. Wonwoo’s not sure if they kissed like this even when they were dating. He wonders if he looks as shocked as he feels.

“I’ll see you around,” Soonyoung says.

He’s gone in a blink.

**Author's Note:**

> i usually don't make my summaries excerpts from the fic but my primal teen-boy mind liked that part a little too much, so.
> 
> if anyone's curious, the pairings that went to the club are soonchan and woncheol (post-scene, cheol meets mingyu at the club and invites wonwoo along for a threesome if he's interested. undecided whether wonwoo would rather wallow alone in his shame or come along for the ride to try and forget, no i am not writing it either way sldkfjhdsf)
> 
> catch me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/soft_coups) or [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/soft_coups)!


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